


Unavoidably Befallen

by blehgah



Series: inevitably predetermined [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Light Angst, M/M, betweenyouandme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehgah/pseuds/blehgah
Summary: The last thing Jihoon needs in his life is romance, but the universe seems determined to make his life difficult.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time ever participating in a fic fest or anything of the sort, and I had a ton of fun! I may have gone a bit overboard with everything, but it was still a great time. Thanks to the mods for hosting this ❤
> 
> The prompt for this fic was koi no yokan: the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to fall in love.
> 
> Some disclaimers:  
> -I'm North American, so please forgive the way I wrote the schooling system. I tried to be vague but just a warning  
> -I'm not a dancer and I have never participated in a dance crew again, so again, please forgive any weird terminology or anything of the like ahah

Jihoon drums his fingers on the front counter, watching one of the librarians sift through the books on hold. He _could_ have bought his own copy of this book, but since this is a mandatory English course he’s sure he’ll never remember past the final exam, he figured he’d save himself the money by making photocopies of a library copy.

When the librarian returns, they rattle off the title of the textbook and ask for Jihoon’s student number. As they jot it down, someone from the line behind him rushes over to Jihoon’s side.

“Hey!” a young man exclaims. He puts his hands on the top of the textbook’s worn cover. “I had this book on hold!”

Jihoon slowly, carefully turns his head to regard the man using his outside voice inside a library. He’s tall—though Jihoon supposes he shouldn’t give him too much credit for being taller than him—and, admittedly, attractive; the slope of his nose is smooth, his cheekbones are high, and the curve of his lips are plush despite being spread thin to accommodate his yelling. His ears stick out the sides of his head, and the piercings on both lobes and one along the shell of his ear catch Jihoon’s attention.

“I’m sorry,” the librarian croaks, “but you must be mistaken. There’s only one copy of this book, and this young man already showed me the required paperwork.”

The student chews on his bottom lip and Jihoon can’t look away.

“But,” he starts, but then he thinks better of it and sighs instead of continuing his train of thought. His lips curl into a slight pout; he’s obviously fighting his disappointment, and there’s something incredibly cute about it.

Jihoon needs to get this book checked out right now immediately, or else he faces the risk of falling in love with this stranger on the spot.

Just as the librarian finishes signing him out, Jihoon grabs the book with a quick bow. He turns on his heel and aims straight for the farthest photocopier from the front desk.

He makes it three steps away from the desk until the student from before taps his shoulder.

“Hey,” he starts, wearing a sheepish smile. Jihoon keeps his eyes on the floor. “I know I’m asking for a lot here, but would it be possible to let me borrow that for like, ten minutes? I just wanted to make some photocopies of it.”

Jihoon chances a look up at the handsome stranger. This guy _must_ be aware of his good looks; he’s smiling from ear to ear, and holy fuck, he has dimples.

Jihoon is fucking screwed. And not in the fun way.

“Well,” Jihoon says, taking his time to savour the word in his mouth before he accepts death by unrequited crush, “I was just gonna make photocopies of it anyway, so… I guess we can share.”

The student’s face brightens. For a moment, Jihoon worries for his eyes, being so suddenly exposed to such open and radiant happiness.

“Great! Thank you so much.” The man bends at the waist in a deep bow. “I’m Choi Seungcheol, by the way.”

“Lee Jihoon,” Jihoon mumbles back. He resumes his journey towards the photocopier.

“So I’m guessing you’re taking this class, too?” Seungcheol asks. He lists the course code for clarification.

“What do you think?” Jihoon grumbles in reply. He ignores Seungcheol’s friendly stare in favour of sorting out the settings on the photocopier.

“Are you a first year?” Seungcheol plows on.

Jihoon vaguely wonders if Seungcheol’s making a stab at his height or not.

“I know this course is mandatory for a lot of programs, so people tend to take it in their first year just to get it out of the way, but I had to move it to this year for some other prerequisites. So, I’m in second year,” Seungcheol continues, “and if you’re new around here, I’d be cool with answering any questions you had about campus.”

Finally, for the first time since Seungcheol engaged him, Jihoon looks up and meets Seungcheol’s eyes. They’re bright and big and lined with dark, long eyelashes. Something flutters fitfully in Jihoon’s stomach, and he barely suppresses a grimace from pulling at his mouth.

“Thanks,” Jihoon says, “but no thanks.”

Seungcheol holds his gaze. Jihoon could honestly see himself pining for this beautiful, friendly man; already he can tell that Seungcheol’s too good for him, offering him a share of his knowledge and a handful of blinding smiles. He might as well stop himself while he’s ahead.

As they hold a staring contest, the photocopier compensates for their silence, beeping rhythmically as it prints out papers. With every beep, every click, Jihoon hears his heart crash against his ribcage, a pitiful echo.

“Alright,” Seungcheol says. His voice seems to barely exceed the sound of the photocopier, and Jihoon knows he must be imagining the disappointment; they’d just met, and were only having this conversation out of necessity.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon can see Seungcheol shove his hands into his pockets. His eyes drift around the room, looking anywhere but Jihoon; eventually, he pulls his phone out and begins to fiddle with it.

Jihoon shoves the book into the machine with more force than necessary. The page folds in half and he has to reposition it so that the machine can take a proper picture.

It takes another twenty minutes before all the required pages are photocopied. It takes another ten to make another set for Seungcheol.

Sighing, Jihoon collects the extra copy and snaps a binder clip onto the top right corner. It’s the least he can do after so bluntly rejecting Seungcheol’s offer to be friends, or whatever.

“Here,” Jihoon says, thrusting his hand out.

Seungcheol looks up from his phone. When he takes the papers, he smiles, and Jihoon isn’t convinced Seungcheol is a real person—there’s no way a human being can constantly emit such happiness. It must be detrimental to his health somehow.

“Thanks,” Seungcheol replies. His tone is lower, though somehow, it manages to retain that warmth he had earlier.

“It’s cool.” Jihoon shoves the textbook under his arm and takes a step towards the exit. “See you around.”

Or whatever. Jihoon makes a note to avoid eye contact if they ever cross paths in their shared class.

He turns and doesn’t look back. He offers a vague wave over his shoulder when Seungcheol gives his farewell, and that’s the last time he ever sees him.

 

* * *

 

Well, that was what Jihoon had _hoped_ would be the last time he saw Choi Seungcheol.

“Just come,” Wonwoo urges, grabbing onto Jihoon’s wrist.

Jihoon gives his roommate a dirty look. There’s a party happening on the floor below theirs—Jihoon can feel the bass through the floor—and some of Wonwoo’s friends are already there. Two months into the school year, Jihoon doesn’t know why Wonwo is trying to drag him to a scene he’s sure he’ll hate, but then again, Wonwoo has put up with a _lot_ of Jihoon’s shit.

The fingers on his wrist tighten ever so slightly.

“Fine,” Jihoon spits, and Wonwoo gives him one of his small smiles, the kind he saves for when he’s genuinely pleased and trying to hide it.

“Change,” Wonwoo says. He pats Jihoon’s shoulder before he slips away to fuss with his hair.

With a sigh, Jihoon digs through his dresser to find his most party appropriate attire. At least this gives him an excuse to stop staring at his latest assignment.

When Wonwoo and Jihoon show up, there’s a bit of fanfare at the door. Jihoon nods his head at Wonwoo’s friends—some classmates, Jun, Yerin, and Soonyoung, and some kids whose names he can’t remember—before making a beeline for the alcohol.

Jihoon wouldn’t call himself a drinker, but there’s not much else to do at these parties besides drink and criticize whatever’s blasting over the speakers.

His salvation appears in the form of a variety of drinks; they serve as a centerpiece to a table covered in a gaudy, green plastic sheet. Jihoon goes for a bottle of soju and his fingers brush against someone else’s.

Jihoon looks up and meets Seungcheol’s eyes from across the table. They crinkle at the corners and Jihoon wants to die a little.

“Hey,” Seungcheol shouts over the music. He really doesn’t need to since there’s only about two feet of space between them, but Jihoon admires the way his throat works. “Lee Jihoon, right?”

Jihoon nods, then points his chin in Seungcheol’s direction. “And you’re Choi Seungcheol, right?”

Grinning, Seungcheol nods his head with vigor. His fingers drag across Jihoon’s as he moves to grab a different bottle of soju.

“What are you doing here?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon glances around, glad for the excuse to look away. “I’m here with my roommate,” Jihoon states. When he finds Wonwoo hanging with Jun somewhere across the room, Jihoon gestures towards him with the soju bottle. “That’s him. With the blank face?”

Seungcheol makes a sound of agreement, though Jihoon is pretty sure Seungcheol’s eyes never leave Jihoon’s person.

“Yeah,” Jihoon continues. There’s a lump in his throat and he’d really love to wash it down with the soju. “What about you? I thought this was a party for freshmen.”

“There’s no such thing. If there’s music and booze, you can get anyone to come to a party.” The bottle of soju in Seungcheol’s hands makes a _crack_ when he opens it, punctuating his sentence. “And I’m here with the tall blond one your roommate’s talking to.”

“Jun?” Jihoon lifts an eyebrow. “How do you know him?”

“He’s friends with one of the international students I’m mentoring,” Seungcheol explains. “You know him? Xu Minghao?”

Jihoon shakes his head.

Of course Seungcheol mentors international students. He probably knows Mandarin or something, too. Just thinking about that makes Jihoon want to throw up, so he drowns the thought with a pull of soju.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says suddenly, and against Jihoon’s better judgment, Jihoon looks up to meet Seungcheol’s eyes. The colours of his irises seem to shift every second, and though Jihoon knows it’s because they’re surrounded by party lights, he can’t look away.

“Cheers,” Seungcheol continues, offering his bottle of soju. Jihoon reaches out to meet him, but Seungcheol leans across the table to link their arms together at the elbow. His eyes widen as Seungcheol winks down at him.

This close, Jihoon can smell the alcohol on Seungcheol’s breath. Seungcheol’s body heat burns down his arm; at least the alcohol should help him burn faster when he finally combusts.

Jihoon has no choice but to play along, trapped against the table by Seungcheol’s strong arm. He tightens his arm’s grip just to reach the lip of his bottle. Seungcheol’s adam’s apple bobs as he chugs his drink. Jihoon tips his bottle just a little higher.

As Seungcheol pulls back, he grins. His tongue interrupts the expression as he licks at a stray drop rolling down his chin. Jihoon really wishes his body would hurry up and catch fire already.

“Cheol-ah!” someone calls, and both Seungcheol and Jihoon turn their heads to search for the source of the voice.

“Jihoonie,” someone says from behind him. Jihoon looks over his shoulder and finds Wonwoo smiling at him.

“What?” Jihoon shouts over the ringing of blood in his ears.

“Yerin wants suggestions for the playlist,” Wonwoo replies, drawing closer. He finds Jihoon’s wrist with ease and begins to tug him away from the table.

Grumbling protests, Jihoon lets himself be manhandled. It’s fine as long as he’s drinking.

The bottle clicks against Jihoon’s teeth when he remembers to turn around and see what happened to Seungcheol. However, he’s unaccounted for when Jihoon glances around the table, and it’s not long before Jihoon forgets about him entirely.

 

* * *

 

Jihoon sweats in the crowded train station. Midterms are over, and he’s going back to Busan for a break. There are a few other students milling about—he can recognize them by that vaguely uncertain and tired look on their faces—but Jihoon’s more concerned with finding his gate.

As his eyes dart from sign to sign, he doesn’t notice when someone steps into his path, and they collide so solidly that Jihoon falls onto his ass. His luggage falls to his side with a thud.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

Really, Jihoon should be the one saying that, seeing as he was the one who wasn’t paying attention, but any apologies brewing in his throat die on his tongue when his brain recognizes who had spoken to him.

Choi Seungcheol. Jihoon blinks up at him in surprise.

Seungcheol bends at the knee and offers his hand. When their eyes meet, a smile curls the corners of Seungcheol’s lips. Jihoon wonders what deity he pissed off and why they were punishing him like this, forcing him to see this beautiful human being when all Jihoon wants is to forget that he exists at all.

“Lee Jihoon,” Seungcheol says, dimples prominent in his red cheeks. “Fancy bumping into you here.”

“Small world,” Jihoon grunts. After a moment of hesitation, he grabs Seungcheol’s hand. The way their palms fold around each other is enough to convince him that maybe they were moulded to fit together.

Once Jihoon gets to his feet, he snatches his hand back. Seungcheol doesn’t react at all, however, and opts for righting Jihoon’s luggage instead.

“Where are you headed?” Seungcheol asks conversationally.

Jihoon stares at Seungcheol for a few seconds. Then, after heaving a weary sigh, Jihoon replies, “Home. Busan.” He clenches his teeth together before he adds, “And you?”

“Daegu.” Seungcheol sizes Jihoon up, smiling like a cat who’d caught the canary. “A Busan man, huh? That finally explains things.”

Jihoon scowls. “What, you can’t imagine someone doesn’t like you?” Jihoon could hardly imagine it either: with manners and a smile like Seungcheol’s, Jihoon doubts Seungcheol has trouble making friends.

Seungcheol lifts his eyebrows. “So you’re saying you don’t like me?”

“I’m definitely not saying that I like you,” Jihoon growls.

No, Jihoon hates Seungcheol and all the butterflies he rouses in Jihoon’s stomach. He hates the way Seungcheol’s dimples frame his pretty pink mouth so perfectly, and he hates that Seungcheol won’t just leave him alone so he can finally forget about him.

A few breaths of silence pass as Seungcheol sizes him up. Jihoon resists the urge to shift his weight around. Honestly, he could run, and that should send the message that Seungcheol—or the universe, who knows—just can’t get.

“Give me a chance,” Seungcheol says. It’s small and vulnerable and Jihoon can’t help the way his eyebrows fly into his bangs.

“Why?” Jihoon asks. “Why do you care?”

A wry smile stretches Seungcheol’s mouth.

“I like having friends,” Seungcheol replies, “and the way we keep seeing each other has to be a sign or something.”

Seungcheol’s not wrong. The thing is, when Jihoon looks up at Seungcheol and drinks in those big eyes and that wide smile and the sharp angle of his jaw, he can’t shake the feeling that he’ll fall in love with Seungcheol if they ever breach the boundaries of friend of a friend. And honestly? He doesn’t think he could handle that.

“ _Train bound for Busan departing in fifteen minutes. All passengers please line up at Gate Seventeen._ ”

The smile on Seungcheol’s face takes an odd, bitter shade to it, and Jihoon finally looks away.

“I should go,” Jihoon mutters. He grabs the handle of his luggage with more force than necessary, and he almost knocks it over again, but he manages to walk away without another incident.

 

* * *

 

Sign up for my dance crew, Soonyoung said; you’ll love it, Soonyoung said.

As a kid, Jihoon’s favourite extra-curricular had been dance. His background was in hiphop, and he frequented clubs in back in high school. It complemented his interest in music, in his opinion, since a solid song is easily danced to.

Jihoon rather likes Soonyoung, and he also likes dancing, so it hadn’t taken much convincing to get him to join. But when Choi Seungcheol meets his eyes from across the room, it takes a considerable amount of effort not to run out of the studio.

Soonyoung grabs Jihoon’s wrist.

“What’s up with you?” Soonyoung asks, stepping beside him. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Jihoon finally rips his eyes off Seungcheol’s, but Soonyoung manages to follow his line of sight.

“You got a problem with Seungcheol-hyung?” Soonyoung asks. When he returns his gaze to Jihoon’s, he quirks an eyebrow.

“Well,” Jihoon starts, “I wouldn’t necessarily call it a ‘problem’, per se…”

Soonyoung claps Jihoon’s back. “Good,” he says, “because we’re getting straight into things, and we can’t be a team if we don’t get along.”

It sounds way too mature coming out of Soonyoung’s mouth, but then again, Jihoon can’t think of much else that Soonyoung takes more seriously than his dance crew. Food, maybe.

Again, Jihoon steals a glance in Seungcheol’s direction. He wonders what kind of dancer Seungcheol is. Admission had been by audition, so he has to be good to some degree.

He finds out soon enough. Soonyoung gathers his members and they start to warm up. It’s not long before they move onto simple choreography, just to get a feel for everyone, a feel for their group chemistry, to pick out the holes in their team and assess the potential for success and the potential for failure.

The strangest part about the whole affair is that Seungcheol and Jihoon dance well together. They’re not awkward around each other, not like Jihoon assumed: they’re both focused and attentive, and the fact that they’re very aware of the space the other occupies serves as a benefit.

When practice winds down, Soonyoung goes around to talk to the members one on one. Jihoon finds himself gravitating towards Seungcheol, puzzled at their lack of friction.

With his back against the mirror, Seungcheol paints a picture that borders on intimidating, sweat pouring down the sides of his face and his chest rising and falling with his heaving breaths. However, when Jihoon approaches, Seungcheol smiles as if confronted with a small animal.

“Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol greets, his tone too light and casual for Jihoon’s liking. When Jihoon wrinkles his nose, Seungcheol just laughs.

“What are you doing here?” Jihoon asks.

“Well,” Seungcheol starts, his gaze following Jihoon as the latter takes a seat next to Seungcheol against the mirror, “as you may have seen only a few moments ago, I was dancing. And so were you!”

Jihoon resists the urge to hit him. Not only is Seungcheol older than him, but Jihoon is also pretty sure Seungcheol could lay him flat on the ground.

Okay, not the best imagery right now, but the sentiment stands nonetheless.

“You know what I mean,” Jihoon grumbles.

Seungcheol gives him a good natured laugh.

“Well, I’m actually mentoring one of the international students who’s part of the crew.” Seungcheol gestures at a skinny, lanky kid standing with Junhui on the other side of the room. “He’s actually a year younger than you, but he skipped a grade. Anyway, he invited me to join when he had the misfortune of seeing me dance at a party.”

“So you didn’t audition?”

Something sharp frames the edges of Seungcheol’s smile. “Of course I did. Listen,” he says, “I might be friends with the guys here, but Soonyoung’s a good leader. Obviously he wouldn’t let me in if I didn’t know how to dance.”

Seungcheol holds Jihoon’s gaze for a few moments.

“Yeah,” Jihoon says after a while. He nods to himself, and Seungcheol sits back, seemingly satisfied.

“Besides, you saw me out there.” Seungcheol gestures at the dance floor. “And, you know, I saw you, too. You’re pretty good yourself.”

Jihoon squints his eyes at Seungcheol. “Are you being serious right now, or is this part of your plan to ‘be my friend’, or whatever?”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “You wound me, accusing me of lying for the sake of winning brownie points. That’s not the kind of guy I am, just so you know,” Seungcheol says. His tone is firm, but there’s something soft about his face, like he’s explaining something to a small child. Again, the urge to hit Seungcheol rises in Jihoon’s chest, though it’s easier to push down this time around.

“Fine,” Jihoon says. He looks away, but he can feel the air move as Seungcheol sits up a little. “You’re right. That was unfair of me.”

When Jihoon looks up at Seungcheol again, there’s a bright grin on Seungcheol’s face. Butterflies beat uselessly against Jihoon’s stomach lining and he hates it, he hates it.

“You know,” Seungcheol says, and something heavy settles in Jihoon’s guts, “I think this might be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

 

* * *

 

Somehow, Jihoon gathers the courage to admit that Seungcheol just might be right—not that ‘beautiful’ would be his word of choice in this situation. But they get along better than he’d like to think about.

It’s easy for Jihoon to set aside his attraction to Seungcheol when they’re on the dance floor. He initially thought it might be the opposite—after all, a flushed and sweaty Seungcheol brings forth certain imagery in any other context—but it doesn’t pose a problem when he’s been given a task and his perfectionist instincts kick into gear.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, is as lovely as Jihoon predicted he would be. In fact, he’s even better than that: he’s a bit awkward when put on the spot, he has a guffaw of a laugh that’s awfully contagious, and he has a tendency to walk into the mirror when he’s focusing very intently on Soonyoung’s instructions. He has flaws, it turns out, and that makes Jihoon like him even more. It makes Seungcheol human—approachable.

Not that Jihoon would ever admit that out loud. Nonetheless, Jihoon can feel his walls breaking down brick by brick, and he’s working hard on ignoring it to the best of his abilities.

“Thank you for your hard work!” the members chorus, bowing in front of Soonyoung.

Soonyoung laughs and rubs the back of his neck, returning the sentiment.

Jihoon is in the middle of chatting with Jun when Soonyoung passes by him and taps him on the back.

“Jihoon-ah,” Soonyoung says, coming to a stop a few steps away from him. “I want to talk to you later, okay?”

Jihoon doesn’t get the opportunity to ask Soonyoung to elaborate: the crew leader drifts away before Jihoon can even open his mouth.

When Jihoon turns his head again, Jun lifts an eyebrow.

“You in trouble?” Jun asks.

Jihoon shrugs. “I can’t remember doing anything trouble-worthy,” he replies.

A wry grin crosses Jun’s features. “That’s because you’re always up to no good,” Jun says, and Jihoon nudges him with an elbow.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Still, Jihoon can’t help the impish smile that pulls at his mouth. “Soonyoung’s an easy target is all.”

“He has a soft spot for you—kinda mean to take advantage, don’t you think?”

Jihoon moves onto slapping Jun’s arm without much force. “You’re making me out to be some kind of villain here. I just like to mess with him.”

Now it’s Jun’s turn to shrug. “Well, I guess we’ll see if that has any consequences.”

They’re both distracted when Minghao approaches them and offers them towels. Jun takes one with a nod of his head, and Jihoon mirrors him. The two begin to chat in their lilted Korean, and Jihoon takes that as his cue to leave.

“Have a safe trip home, okay?” Jihoon says, waving.

His vision goes dark as his towel drops over his eyes. Grumbling, Jihoon pulls it aside with haste to see the perpetrator.

When he looks up, he’s met with Seungcheol’s huge, smiling eyes.

“Looks like we’re in trouble, Jihoonie,” Seungcheol says, though it sounds more like a purr, what with the way his tongue curls around the affectionate syllable attached to the end of Jihoon’s name.

“He called you too?” Jihoon asks.

All Seungcheol does in reply is wiggle his eyebrows, and Jihoon realizes it’s a stupid question when he looks around and finds the studio empty.

Soonyoung returns to the room and claps his hands. The sound echoes against the glass walls encasing them.

“You two,” he starts, pointing at them with both of his index fingers. “I have a job for you two. A special job.”

Seungcheol turns his head around as if searching for something. “You know, if this is the start of some shitty, amateur porno, I would’ve liked a better heads up than ‘I need to talk to you after practice’.”

Soonyoung barks a laugh. “Okay,” he says, “I said ‘job’, but not as the end part of anything related to blowing or inappropriate use of the hands.”

“Just get to the point,” Jihoon mutters.

Soonyoung takes his time to ruffle Jihoon’s sweat-soaked hair before he speaks again: “It’s about the showcase this spring,” Soonyoung says, trying to discreetly wipe his hand on his pants. “I have a request.”

Jihoon and Seungcheol exchange looks.

“Do you need help with something?” Seungcheol asks.

“Well, I don’t _need_ it, exactly, which is why this is a request and not a favour.” Soonyoung pauses and gauges both of their expressions before continuing. “I was wondering if you two would like to do stage together.”

“Us?” Seungcheol asks at the same time Jihoon says, “Why us?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, you two dance well together,” Soonyoung states, and there’s something devious about Soonyoung’s small smile. Jihoon crosses his arms across his chest defensively.

“Don’t worry,” Soonyoung continues, “there’s another pair who’s preparing something too, so the pressure’s not entirely on you two. And it’s cool if you don’t want to do it either; I just wanted to ask.”

Again, Jihoon and Seungcheol exchange looks. With Soonyoung _and_ Seungcheol right in front of him, Jihoon can’t find the words to voice his doubts, but then Seungcheol smiles, bright and wide with confidence, and his thoughts turn to mush, anyway. Damn, useless brain.

Seungcheol’s eyes linger on Jihoon for a second too long before he turns to Soonyoung.

“We’ll do it,” he says, and apparently he’s speaking for both of them since Jihoon’s suddenly lost his tongue.

Soonyoung claps again and smiles. “Good!” He reaches out and puts a hand on Jihoon and Seungcheol’s shoulders. “You have about three months to prepare. That should be plenty of time, right?”

“Sure,” Jihoon says with his usual confidence. Soonyoung’s smile takes a wry turn, but he doesn’t question Jihoon’s response.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Soonyoung claps their shoulders again. “If you have any questions, let me know. There’s no special theme or anything; just do something _good_.”

The gears in Jihoon’s head start to turn as Soonyoung sends them one last smile. As their leader walks out, Jihoon turns to Seungcheol and squints up at him, assessing. Seungcheol merely tilts his head to the side and smiles.

“You look like you’re up to no good,” Seungcheol says around a grin.

Jihoon purses his lips. “I’m thinking,” he says.

“Looks painful.”

“Shut up, maybe?” Jihoon rolls his eyes and mutters, “God.”

He drifts towards the sound system. Seungcheol trails after him.

“We’re starting right away?” Seungcheol asks.

“We’re still here, so why not?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, “don’t you have something better to do right now? Maybe we should sleep on it first.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Jihoon mumbles. He scrolls through the music on his phone.

His thumb hovers over a song, then he goes searching for the aux cord.

“How about,” Jihoon starts, and the faint static of the speakers connecting to his phone interrupts him for a second, “we give this a listen first, and then you can go home and do whatever pressing thing it is you’re worrying about.”

“I have homework, you know,” Seungcheol says, rolling his eyes.

“So do I.”

“Be more responsible, then!”

Jihoon holds up a finger to silence Seungcheol. Surprisingly, he obeys, and soon enough, the first few notes of Jihoon’s chosen song come on and spill into the studio.

When Jihoon looks up, Seungcheol is regarding him with a furrowed brow. They hold their stare for a few moments, but then the beat kicks in, and Seungcheol breaks into a smile of recognition.

Instead of speaking, Jihoon walks into the middle of the studio. He does a few stretches, and it’s not long before Seungcheol joins him. They do a few of the steps Soonyoung taught them in time with the music, but it’s nothing approaching anything cohesive.

When the song finishes, Jihoon goes back to the sound system to retrieve his phone.

“I love that song,” Seungcheol quips.

Jihoon allows himself a small smile. “Same,” he says, “that’s why I played it.” Shrugging, Jihoon adds, “Still, we have some time to think about it. We don’t have to do that one song.”

When Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, Jihoon looks up at him. Seungcheol’s arm hovers in the air between them, uncertain, and Jihoon’s eyes run along the length of it like a guideline. His gaze moves up Seungcheol’s arm, over the lines of his chest, up the column of his neck, before resting on Seungcheol’s eyes.

Seungcheol’s cheeks are pink, and Jihoon can’t tell if it’s because of the earlier exertion or something else.

Seungcheol takes a step closer and his arm pokes into Jihoon’s personal space. He goes for Jihoon’s phone, and the move is so straightforward Jihoon can’t react fast enough to fight back.

“Hey!” Jihoon says, belated, as Seungcheol starts to scroll through his music.

“Let’s pick a song first, at least,” Seungcheol replies. He whistles, and Jihoon can feel a blush of his own start to heat up his cheeks. “Wow, hey. You’ve actually got pretty good taste in music.”

“Of course I do,” Jihoon snaps, taking another swipe for his phone.

Seungcheol dances as far away as the audio cord will let him.

They stay in the studio for another hour and a half before reluctantly parting to take care of their other responsibilities.

 

* * *

 

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_so when’s your first exam?_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_feb 10, i think? why?_

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_that’s close_

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_i was thinking maybe we could study together?_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_why? we’re not even in the same program. we’re not even in the same year_

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_i want to make sure you’re actually studying while we’re prepping for the showcase_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_are you trying to be a hyung to me now or what_

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_better late than never?_

 

Jihoon smooths his thumbs over the surface of his phone.

 

 **[Jihoon]:**  
_fine. when do you wanna meet up?_

 

It’s a bit past 8pm when Jihoon hurries into the warm refuge of the library. Even the front foyer is busy: students bussing coffee and books from one end of the room to the other leave minimal floor space for Jihoon to navigate.

Someone behind Jihoon pushes him forward into another body. Apologies fall from his lips immediately, but any sentiment behind the words dies in his throat when his eyes meet Seungcheol’s.

“Fancy bumping into you here,” Seungcheol says, and the echo is not lost on Jihoon’s ears.

Unfortunately, a surge of people entering the building locks Jihoon in place. He can’t move his arms from where they’ve come to a rest on Seungcheol’s chest to brace his weight.

“Sorry,” Jihoon mutters, averting his eyes.

“It’s no biggie. I, too, stand witness to the excessive amount of people in here,” Seungcheol replies. Jihoon snorts.

“Maybe not my greatest idea after all,” Seungcheol admits.

They share the same air for a few more moments. Jihoon refuses to lift his eyes from the floor the entire time.

Seungcheol’s hands are gentle as he guides Jihoon’s arms back to his sides, and they part without any more fuss.

“Okay,” Seungcheol says, “plan B: how about we get coffee a few blocks down from here and set up camp there?”

Jihoon swallows around a lump in his throat and glances up at Seungcheol’s face. His hyung smiles, much too sheepish about something he can’t control.

“Anywhere that’s not here sounds good to me,” Jihoon mutters.

When they exit the library, Jihoon stuffs his hands under his armpits and shivers. Even in February, the weather is relentless: the trampled snow still crunches under Jihoon’s boots as they walk to the bus stop and wind nips at his nose. He’s sure it’s as red as his hat by now.

The winter night drapes a dark cover over them both. Jihoon feels that Seungcheol’s black coat will cause him to dissolve into nothing—but at least then Jihoon could go home guilt-free.

“Hey,” Seungcheol says, and he bumps Jihoon’s arm with his own. With some shuffling, Jihoon finds himself tucked into Seungcheol’s side. “That any better?” Seungcheol asks.

“You really don’t…” Jihoon swallows. His heart pounds in his ears, and the sound of his blood rushing through his veins roars over his voice. “It’s kinda weird, actually.”

“Oh.” Seungcheol takes half a step away and Jihoon misses the heat immediately. “Sorry.”

Silence fills up the space between them, cold and hard and unforgiving. Jihoon glances at his hyung: Seungcheol’s eyes are on the floor, examining the mishmash of footprints in the snow, and his lips are pursed.

Fear fills in the rivets of Jihoon’s brain. He can’t do this. He can’t stand that look on Seungcheol’s face. But he can’t stand the other option, either; the moment he lets his guard down, he knows he’ll fall down a bottomless chasm.

Before Jihoon can finish weighing out the pros and cons of sharing body heat with Seungcheol, the bus pulls up. It’s almost empty; there are two or three people in the back, so Seungcheol opts for a seat in the middle.

Taking a deep breath, Jihoon makes a decision.

He takes the seat next to Seungcheol, sidling up to him without a word. Seungcheol looks at him immediately. A sigh of a laugh bubbles from his throat and he slings an arm over the back of Jihoon’s seat.

“I don’t bite, you know,” Seungcheol says, looking out the window.

“I know,” Jihoon mutters.

What does he know about Choi Seungcheol, honestly? But Seungcheol stays quiet, and the hum of the bus envelops Jihoon’s ears.

It’s not a long trip. Soon enough, Seungcheol nudges Jihoon to get off the bus.

They arrive at a small plaza and Seungcheol drags him into a Starbucks.

“What do you want?” Seungcheol asks without looking up. He rifles through his bag to find his wallet.

“It’s okay,” Jihoon says. “I can order for myself.”

Huffing, Seungcheol slings his bag back onto his back. “Come on, Jihoon-ah,” he whines. “What do you want?”

Jihoon holds Seungcheol’s gaze for a second before looking up and pretending to examine the menu.

“Small coffee’s fine,” Jihoon mutters.

With an exaggerated sigh, Seungcheol tugs on Jihoon’s wrist, dragging him as the line moves.

“That can’t be it,” Seungcheol says. “Come on. I’ll get you whatever you want. Double latte with soy milk and a shot of caramel? Sure, whatever. Just name it.”

Jihoon stares at Seungcheol for a second, thinking _fuck it_ , before asking what’s been running through his mind for the past few minutes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

_What did I do to deserve it?_

Seungcheol quirks a brow. “I—” He pauses to huff a laugh. “I don’t know! What kind of question is that?” The line moves again and Seungcheol tugs Jihoon along. “Just tell me what you want and forget about things like that.”

Seungcheol says that like it’s so easy. Still, they’re next in line, so Jihoon needs to say something.

“A—A double latte, then,” Jihoon mumbles, head slightly bowed.

“Soy milk or no?” Seungcheol asks, grinning.

“Regular is fine, thanks.”

The grin remains on Seungcheol’s face as he reaches out to ruffle Jihoon’s hair.

“You’re cute,” Seungcheol says, and it comes out of his mouth so easily that Jihoon can’t help but gawk.

“How can you just say things like that?” Jihoon exclaims.

The grin on Seungcheol’s face widens before it’s interrupted by his reply, “Chill out.” Seungcheol puts a warm hand on Jihoon’s shoulder, steering him to the counter so he can order.

They are in public, so Jihoon shuts his mouth and looks at the floor again.

Once their drinks are procured, they find a booth near the back and settle down. Their laptops between them serves as a kind of barrier, providing Jihoon just enough space to breathe easier.

“Um,” Jihoon starts, and he catches Seungcheol’s attention easily. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

Seungcheol just smiles. His eyes catch the light from his computer, from the dim lights above them, and sparkle and shine and Jihoon just wants to punch him.

“What are friends for?”

 

* * *

 

After exams, they’ve decided on a song and have the bare bones of the choreo down. It’s just after 10pm when they’re alone in the studio together, watching each other in the mirror with hawk eyes as the music envelops them.

The room falls silent when the song ends. Jihoon straightens up, but he can’t help the way his chest heaves. His eyes remain on Seungcheol’s in the mirror, and his hyung stands a foot behind him, pushing damp hair out of his eyes.

“That was good, I think,” Seungcheol says around his panting.

Jihoon hums. “I think we can do better,” Jihoon replies. And now that exams are out of the way, they can definitely put more time into this.

“Sure, sure, sure. But let me catch my breath first, okay?” Seungcheol gives him a tired smile before collapsing against the wall.

Jihoon approaches him with quiet steps. He settles down beside Seungcheol, crosses his legs, and offers Seungcheol his water bottle. His hyung accepts it with a nod of his head, breathless, and takes greedy gulps. Sitting back, Jihoon splays his fingers around his own water bottle, watching Seungcheol from the corner of his eye.

“I definitely think we’re on the right track, though,” Jihoon says. He’s bent over his lap, and he can feel his hot breath against the hot skin of his chest as it travels down the neck of his shirt.

“Good.”

With a sigh, Seungcheol leans his cheek against the top of Jihoon’s head.

“Hey,” Jihoon mutters without much heat.

“Hey, you,” Seungcheol replies, and Jihoon can feel the vibration of Seungcheol’s voice roll through his entire body.

“I’m really sweaty right now,” Jihoon continues, but he can’t muster up the energy to protest earnestly.

“Same.”

“Sweaty plus sweaty means more sweaty, you know.”

“It’s sweaty all the same, so who cares?”

Jihoon sits up a little. Seungcheol’s head rolls onto Jihoon’s shoulder.

“You’re so fucking clingy,” Jihoon says. He hates the way it comes out all soft and fond, wonders how the hell his mouth can possibly produce such a sound.

Seungcheol grins. Jihoon can feel the movement of his cheek against his shoulder.

“I can’t help that you’re so cuddly, Jihoonie,” Seungcheol purrs. He moves and suddenly the back of his head rests against Jihoon’s thigh. His big eyes stare up at Jihoon, curved with his smile, and Jihoon’s heart clatters uselessly in his chest.

“What’s wrong with you, Seungcheol-ah?” Jihoon pokes his hyung’s cheek and regrets it immediately. He makes a show of shaking the sweat off his hand. Seungcheol just laughs, curling his body on the floor.

Sighing, Jihoon slumps against the mirror on the wall. He makes a note to kill Soonyoung later: it’s his fault that Jihoon’s stuck with this idiot in his lap. It’s Soonyoung’s fault that Jihoon’s slowly falling for this smiley, sweaty, goofy moron using his thigh as a pillow.

“We shouldn’t stay too late, huh, Jihoonie?” Seungcheol says. Jihoon hates the way the nickname curves around the shape of Seungcheol’s mouth, hates the plush quality of Seungcheol’s lips as he says it.

Jihoon sighs again, but through his nose this time.

“Yeah,” he replies. He nudges Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Come on, hyung, let’s get up. At least one more run before we sleep on it.”

Seungcheol gets to his feet and offers his hand to Jihoon. Jihoon takes it, looking up at Seungcheol with his heart in his throat.

They go through the routine three more times before they call it a night.

 

* * *

 

“No, listen, it’s like—” Jihoon executes the move, and frustration sharpens the flow of his joints and muscles.

Seungcheol glares at him in the mirror, his arms crossed over his chest.

“No, it’s too _boom boom pow_ ,” Seungcheol replies. He mimics the move and rolls his eyes. “It should be more _pow blam boom_!”

It’s nonsense, it’s all nonsense, but it’s approaching 3am and Jihoon can’t think past the fact that he’s right and Seungcheol’s wrong.

“Come, do this with me,” Seungcheol grunts, grabbing Jihoon’s wrist. Jihoon plants his feet on the ground just because he can.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jihoon spits.

“ _I’m_ being ridiculous?” Seungcheol pulls harder and Jihoon stumbles forward. “Jihoon, the showcase is in ten days and we have to get this _right_.”

“I should be the one saying that to you!” Jihoon’s voice climbs in volume. He yanks on his arm and Seungcheol follows, surprised, but unwilling to let go. “What the fuck is this, anyway? Let go of me, for fuck’s sake!”

Seungcheol makes a noise of frustration, something that sounds like he wants to say _no_ but can’t get his lips and teeth to cooperate. Instead of speaking, he goes for Jihoon’s other wrist; he misses the first time, but he’s too fast the second time around and Jihoon’s brain is a little too foggy with exhaustion to fight back.

With one solid movement, Seungcheol pulls Jihoon into his space. Toe to toe with Seungcheol now, Jihoon musters all the strength he can and glares up, a scowl etched across his face.

“What is this? Are you gonna bully me into agreeing with you?” Jihoon wiggles his fingers for lack of anything better to do. “Has this all been one long, convoluted short joke? What is this, Seungcheol? Do you take me seriously at all?”

Harsh breath bounces in the minute space between their bodies. Seungcheol’s fingers tighten their grip before he finally lets go. Still, he doesn’t back off, doesn’t back down, just stares and stares and stares. Jihoon stares back, stares with all he’s got, stares because he can’t think of anything else to do with this little space between them and Seungcheol’s eyes so big and bright and torn before him.

Jihoon can’t read him at all. Seungcheol’s mouth is all fucked up, twisted at the corners, pulled back just enough to bare his pearly whites. His eyes are dark and narrowed and unrelenting in their stare.

Jihoon can’t tell if this is even about the dance anymore.

“Of course I take you seriously,” Seungcheol mutters finally, finally. His eyes fall to the floor for a split second, then he’s staring at Jihoon with renewed fire. “There’s nothing I take more seriously than you. You and your stubbornness, your stubborn head, your—” He cuts himself off with a sharp breath.

“Yeah? What? What is it? Me and my what?” Jihoon reaches out and grabs the front of Seungcheol’s shirt and pulls, dragging him down. He hears and feels Seungcheol’s feet stutter against the wood floors, his shoes squeaking. “Just say it, Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol’s hands grip Jihoon’s shoulders in return.

“Call me hyung,” Seungcheol says, and the sudden turn in the conversation has Jihoon’s head spinning.

“What?” Jihoon’s fingers lose some of their tension. Then Jihoon scowls and pulls harder, and he relishes in the way that Seungcheol’s back hunches under the stress. “No. Don’t change the subject, Seungcheol-ah.”

“Jihoon—” It comes as a warning of sorts, Jihoon thinks, but he doesn’t have time to react: Seungcheol rushes forward, pushes Jihoon back until his body hits the mirror. Seungcheol pins him in place, and for a second, Jihoon thinks they’re going to come to blows, finally, finally.

Instead of punching him, Seungcheol sinks to his knees. Jihoon follows him because his hands are still rooted in Seungcheol’s shirt, but he finds himself bent at the waist rather than the legs, looking down at Seungcheol for once rather than up.

“I tried—” Seungcheol starts, but pauses to take a shuddering breath. “I tried to be your hyung. I tried to be your friend. And for a while, I thought it was working.”

There’s a lull in Seungcheol’s speech, and Jihoon snatches the opportunity without hesitation. “Seungcheol, what the fuck, what are you saying, what do you mean—”

“Jihoon!”

The volume of Seungcheol’s voice knocks the breath right out of Jihoon’s lungs. In this proximity, it’s immense, and it’s enough to rattle Jihoon’s skeleton underneath layers of skin and muscle.

“Let me talk, for fuck’s—” Seungcheol groans. “I can’t even fucking talk straight, so just—let me, for once. Let me do this for once.”

Jihoon’s head is still spinning. He lost track of the conversation a few sentences back, and now he’s stuck here, trapped between the wall and Seungcheol’s solid body, warm and trembling against Jihoon’s fingers.

“You know, the moment we met, I—I don’t know. I wanted to—I wanted to know you. You and your… Your everything. But then you shot me down and I was sure that was that.” Seungcheol pauses to swallow. “You know, it was whatever. Shit happens. You don’t always get to act on whatever weird gut reaction you have to handsome strangers, and that’s fine, you know.

“But then I ran into you again. And again. And again. And then we ended up here, and I figured, you know, this is it—this is my chance. To be _friends_ , at least, because I’d settle for that, if anything. Nothing’s written in stone and all that.”

As he speaks, Seungcheol’s eyes change, bending under the weight of his furrowed brow, narrowing as his nose crinkles. Jihoon can’t keep track of the changes, can’t keep track of what Seungcheol’s saying. It’s all too much at once, but Seungcheol just plows on.

“But—I don’t know, Jihoon! I don’t know. I don’t know what to do with this anymore.” Seungcheol exhales, low and shaky. “I can’t look at you in that mirror without wanting to fucking throw up. I don’t know what I—”

His hands fall from Jihoon’s shoulders, hanging loosely around Jihoon’s biceps.

“Of course I take you seriously, Jihoon,” Seungcheol whispers. “I fucking—”

Jihoon can’t take it anymore. He lets go of Seungcheol’s shirt and cups Seungcheol’s jaw instead. For a second, Jihoon can hear the whistle of air coming in and out of Seungcheol’s throat, and he fancies he can hear Seungcheol’s heart pounding in his chest, too, but at this rate, it’s probably just his own.

Seungcheol’s eyes are huge pools of endless brown as Jihoon closes the distance between their faces.

At first, Seungcheol freezes. Jihoon persists because he can, because he wants to, because he hopes against hope that giving into the desire throwing a fit in the pit of his stomach will bring him some relief.

It’s not long before Seungcheol melts. He opens like a flower, petals blooming wide for Jihoon, wrapping him in softness. A throaty sound gets caught between their bodies and Jihoon can’t tell who made it, but it means absolutely nothing to him once Seungcheol parts his lips and adds another level of complexity to this mess.

Jihoon leans down and Seungcheol catches him, braces his weight against his broad chest and his broad shoulders. Jihoon moans and Seungcheol swallows the sound with ease. Jihoon falls apart and Seungcheol falls apart with him, and soon enough they’re just a heap on the ground, knees sore against the unyielding wood floors.

“Who are you,” Seungcheol starts, voice hoarse enough to spark a feeling of satisfaction deep in Jihoon’s belly, “and what have you done with Lee Jihoon?”

Jihoon grins. It also sort of feels like he’s baring his teeth.

“Shut up, maybe,” Jihoon mutters, “and kiss me again.”

Seungcheol complies without a moment of hesitation.

There’s something relaxed yet firm about the way Seungcheol kisses, like he wants to put Jihoon at ease while trying to demonstrate just what Jihoon’s been doing to him this entire time. Jihoon has a bit of trouble keeping up; this is his first time kissing someone, after all. He’s clumsy and inexperienced but he can’t find the energy to be self-conscious about it, not with the way Seungcheol absolutely devours him. Still, he puts in everything he can and hopes for the best.

When Jihoon finally pulls back, he settles heavily onto his ass. Seungcheol follows him, crawling over Jihoon’s lap and planting his knees on either side of Jihoon’s thighs.

Jihoon reaches up and fists the front of Seungcheol’s shirt.

“I hate you so much,” Jihoon mutters, “and I really, really hate the shit you do to me.”

Seungcheol grins and his cheeks dimple so fucking perfectly.

“Same to you, Jihoonie,” Seungcheol replies. “Same to you.”

They don’t get much work done on the choreography that night.

 

* * *

 

 **[Soonyoung]:**   
_did you guys fuck????_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_WHAT_

 

The showcase is in two days. Jihoon had sent Soonyoung a video of their routine in case he had any last minute feedback to offer.

 

 **[Soonyoung]:**   
_that doesn’t answer my question_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_why are you even asking in the first place???_

 **[Soonyoung]:**   
_there’s something different about you two_

 **[Soonyoung]:**   
_don’t worry i don’t think it’s too obvious but i’m just wondering_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_mind your own business maybe??_

 **[Soonyoung]:**   
_SO YOU DID!!_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_WE DIDNT_

 **[Soonyoung]:** **  
** _fine_

 **[Soonyoung]:**   
_second base?_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_fuck off_

 

Jihoon puts his head in his hands and sighs. Once he’s recollected his composure, he picks up his phone again and sends screencaps of the conversation to Seungcheol.

 

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_lmao oh wow_

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_i mean, we can if you want_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_THAT WAS NOT MEANT AS SOME UNDERHANDED WAY TO ASK FOR SEX_

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_ok chill i was just saying_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_i was a little more concerned with the fact that he could even notice a difference??_

 **[Seungcheol]:** **  
** _soonyoung’s just like that. if he says people probably won’t notice, then they probably won’t_

 **[Seungcheol]:** **  
** _right?_

 **[Seungcheol]:** _  
__aw fuck now i’m worried too_

 **[Seungcheol]:**   
_actually, think about it this way: maybe our chemistry will make the performance more interesting?_

 **[Jihoon]:** _  
_ _that’s optimism if i ever heard it_

 **[Seungcheol]:** **  
** _cmon. no point in worrying about it now, right? it’s not like we can go back in time_

 **[Jihoon]:** **  
** _as much as i hate to admit it, you’re right_

 **[Seungcheol]:** _  
_ _oohh~ jihoonie~ hearing you say that gets me all hot and bothered_

 **[Jihoon]:**   
_fuck off_

 

* * *

 

The showcase goes without a hitch. It’s school-run, so most of the audience consists of students and alumni, but it’s still a full house. Much to Jihoon’s relief, his duet with Seungcheol gets a big round of applause; however, it’s still not enough to dissolve the nagging feeling of self-consciousness that lingers in the back of his head.

“Chill out,” Soonyoung says, putting a hand on Jihoon’s forearm. “Lots of people who do duets together are fucking.”

“We’re not fucking!” Jihoon snaps.

The rest of the crew turns to look at Jihoon. Seungcheol grins, and that makes Jihoon feel even worse.

“It just—” Jihoon heaves a shuddering sigh. “It just feels like we must’ve aired our dirty laundry or something.”

“So?” Soonyoung grins. “People eat that shit up. If we get popular, we get funds, and that’s the important part here.”

“Not at my expense,” Jihoon whines.

“Come on. _Some_ part of you must be a bit of an exhibitionist since you managed to pull the whole thing off so flawlessly.” Soonyoung leans back to fan himself with a limp hand. “You guys looked great. You guys were hot, if that makes you feel any better.”

“You’re no help and you’re a fucking piece of shit.”

“Wow!” Soonyoung steps back and puts a hand over his chest. “I compliment you and this is how you treat me? You have no respect for your leader! None!”

Seungcheol takes Soonyoung’s exaggerated yelling as his cue to step up behind Jihoon and place a warm palm on the small of his back.

“I see you’re up to no good, as usual,” Seungcheol comments with a shameless grin on his face.

Jihoon rolls his shoulders, but makes no move to put distance between himself and Seungcheol despite the unease tumbling in his stomach.

“I’m just trying to maintain my dignity,” Jihoon mumbles. He’s whining, he knows it, but there’s just something iffy about the whole situation. Soonyoung’s obvious amusement only emphasizes his discomfort.

“Take care of your boyfriend, hmm?” Soonyoung says to Seungcheol, patting his shoulder. With a quick glance at Jihoon, Soonyoung leans in and stage-whispers, “He’s more high-maintenance than I thought.”

As Soonyoung walks away to attend to the other members of the crew, all Jihoon can think of is that little word he used: boyfriend. With a furrowed brow, Jihoon finds the nearest wall and leans his side against it.

“Hey, are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, following Jihoon like a loyal puppy.

Jihoon chews on his lip. He stares at the floor for a few moments, then he looks up and asks, “Am I… Am I really your boyfriend?”

“Huh?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows draw together as he processes the question. After a few seconds of thinking, his expression smooths out and he moves to lean against the wall as well. “Hmm. I guess?”

Jihoon hits Seungcheol’s shoulder with a tight fist. When Seungcheol makes a noise of complaint and glares at him, Jihoon lowers his head again.

“That’s not…” As Jihoon trails off, he rubs his knuckles. “I’m being serious right now,” he mutters, and despite the low volume of his voice, his tone is firm.

Jihoon chances a look up at Seungcheol. His usual smile isn’t there, though there’s nothing about his expression that raises any red flags.

“We should probably have this conversation somewhere else,” Seungcheol replies. He tips his head down to meet Jihoon’s eyes. “Dinner later?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “We’re going out with the crew after this, remember?” Jihoon says. He bites his lip again before saying, “After.”

Now Seungcheol grins. Something hot bounces around in Jihoon’s stomach.

“Alright,” Seungcheol agrees, “after.”

 

* * *

 

Soonyoung takes the crew to a barbecue place after the showcase. Although the members goad him to pay for everyone, they’re all broke students, so they understand; still, it’s an amicable night out, and Jihoon finds himself immeasurably grateful for the opportunity to know these people.

Luckily for Jihoon and Seungcheol, the restaurant is close to campus, so they don’t have to spend extra money getting home. Wonwoo’s back at Jihoon’s, so the pair ends up at Seungcheol’s place on the edge of campus.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Seungcheol says, throwing his front door open. He lives in a studio apartment, and Jihoon sees his bed upon stepping inside.

“Make yourself at home,” Seungcheol adds. He tosses his coat onto a nearby chair and works on removing his boots. With some hesitation, Jihoon follows suit, his brain going a mile a minute.

This is Seungcheol’s _home_. This is where he sleeps, eats, and lives. This is where he sheds his layers, this is where he finds solace and security.

Obviously he has to live _somewhere_ , but Jihoon finds it unsettling to see this part of him—he feels like he’s intruding. Jihoon never thought he’d get this far, never even dreamed of it.

“Want anything?” Seungcheol asks, heading towards his kitchen. “Water, tea, coffee?”

“Um,” Jihoon mumbles, following with quiet footsteps.

“I’m having tea, so,” Seungcheol continues.

Jihoon admires Seungcheol’s back as he stretches to grab a box of tea.

“I’ll have some, too,” Jihoon says. His voice is meek, and yet it seems to bounce everywhere in the small apartment.

“Cool.”

Eventually, Jihoon wanders over to the counter where Seungcheol is messing with mugs and a kettle. He purses his lips as he watches Seungcheol move around with ease.

“Tired?” Seungcheol asks, sparing Jihoon a quick glance.

Jihoon shrugs.

“You can stay over, if you want,” Seungcheol says. His casual tone makes Jihoon’s heartbeat echo in his own two ears.

“Um,” Jihoon says, louder this time.

The sound of the kettle whistling cuts cleanly through Jihoon’s head. He focuses on Seungcheol’s hands moving the water into the cups, then he stares at the steam that rises from the tea.

“You okay?” Seungcheol prompts. Though he watches Jihoon with careful eyes, his body remains relaxed as he pushes one of the mugs in Jihoon’s direction.

For a while, all Jihoon does is stare at the dark liquid in the mug. Seungcheol is patient and quiet throughout the whole ordeal, and that in itself makes Jihoon warm in the middle.

“Are we dating?” Jihoon asks, finally looking up.

A fond smile curves Seungcheol’s lips.

“I want to say yes,” Seungcheol replies. His eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he lowers his gaze from Jihoon’s eyes to his mug. “But I get that we didn’t exactly… start off on the right foot.”

Jihoon squeezes his mug with both hands. He inhales deeply before he says, “The thing that was bothering me earlier—you know, people thinking we’re fucking.”

“Mm-hmm?”

Seungcheol’s quiet intensity halts the words forming on Jihoon’s tongue. After all this time, Jihoon doesn’t know what to expect from Seungcheol anymore, and he can’t tell if that excites him or scares him.

“It’s—it’s not that I’m, like, ashamed of the thought of people knowing that we’re… attracted to each other,” Jihoon explains. His words are slow as his teeth and tongue weave them together, but Seungcheol just nods and stays quiet. Jihoon continues: “But… I didn’t like them assuming things that weren’t true.”

How could they think that they were boyfriends if Jihoon didn’t even know?

“Ah,” Seungcheol murmurs. He nods to himself. “I see.”

“I didn’t want to—I don’t know.” Jihoon stares hard at the tea in his mug instead of drinking it. “Get ahead of myself, I guess. We made out a bit. That was—fun,” Jihoon swallows around the last word, though it’s still loud and clear in the quiet room. “But I didn’t know what it meant about—us.”

“Well,” Seungcheol starts, “if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t want to assume anything about us either.”

Jihoon looks up, seeking Seungcheol’s gaze—searching for answers. With soft eyes, Seungcheol smiles down at him.

“Like I said, I’d like to be your boyfriend,” Seungcheol continues. “But what about you? What do you want?”

That’s a good question. Unease lingers in Jihoon’s stomach, and he finally sips some of the tea in hopes of quelling the discomfort.

At the start of all this, he’d been afraid of unreciprocated feelings, but now that it turns out that Seungcheol actually likes him back, he can’t quite pin down what it is he’s afraid of. Having a relationship in the first place? At least he can blame his inexperience for that.

Part of him is still convinced that Seungcheol is too good for him. Nonetheless, Seungcheol wants to be with him, so what does it matter?

“Come,” Seungcheol says, reaching for Jihoon’s wrist. Jihoon lets him take it without a fuss.

Seungcheol leads them over to his bed. With a sigh of relief, Seungcheol settles down against a nest of pillows and blankets. Jihoon stays perched on the edge of the bed, his socks brushing against the rug beneath the bedframe.

“You don’t have to say anything right now if you don’t want to,” Seungcheol says.

Jihoon turns his head at that.

“But—” Jihoon stops himself. But what? He chews on his bottom lip, racking his brain for the right words. “But I’m already here,” Jihoon says eventually, “so we… might as well. You know?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “You can always come back. Though obviously I’m not gonna kick you out to the cold if you don’t want to make the walk of shame back home.”

Blood fills Jihoon’s cheeks. “Does it even count as a walk of shame if we didn’t do anything?” Jihoon asks, bristling.

With a laugh, Seungcheol shrugs again. “You get my point, though,” is all Seungcheol says.

Jihoon sighs. He does.

As Jihoon sorts through his racing thoughts, he finishes off his tea, and Seungcheol follows suit. The quiet isn’t as big a burden as Jihoon imagined it would be; it’s heavy, though it serves as a blanket rather than an anvil on his chest.

“How about this,” Seungcheol begins, setting his mug aside on a nearby table. “Start with something small. You don’t have to jump straight to dating if you don’t want to.” When Seungcheol pulls back, he gathers his knees to his chest, and he looks the smallest Jihoon has ever seen him. “For example, you said you liked making out. That’s fine. We can do that, right?”

Jihoon sets his mug down next to Seungcheol’s. When he turns around again, he settles his entire weight on Seungcheol’s bed. He stares at Seungcheol and Seungcheol stares back.

Maybe he’s making a mountain out of a molehill. But at the same time, he doesn’t think his fear is misplaced, either.

Jihoon takes a deep breath through his nose and crawls over to Seungcheol’s side. Immediately, Seungcheol unfolds, leaving space for Jihoon to bury his face into Seungcheol’s sweater.

“But that’s the sort of thing people do when they’re dating,” Jihoon mutters against the soft wool. “I don’t—” He stops with a shaky breath. “I think I want to date you,” Jihoon continues, and his pace increases as he goes on, “I think I want to date you, because I do want to kiss you and stuff, but it’s just, you know, I’ve never dated anyone before and I just—I don’t want to mess up or anything, you know?”

Jihoon feels fingers card through his hair and a hand smooth down his back. He sighs, closing his eyes, and waits for Seungcheol’s response.

“It’s never gonna be perfect, Jihoonie,” Seungcheol says. Jihoon can feel his voice through his chest and stomach. “Even if we were just friends, you could still say something that might make me angry or whatever. It’s just part of the deal.”

“Yeah, but,” Jihoon protests, “if we were dating, then it would matter more.” He pauses. “Well, at least it would to me.”

Seungcheol smooths down Jihoon’s hair before leaning over to drop a kiss against his temple.

“It’s up to you, you know. If you want to take that risk,” Seungcheol murmurs, his lips brushing Jihoon’s skin with every word.

Jihoon grabs fistfuls of Seungcheol’s sweater and leans up.

“What about you? You think it’s worth it?” Jihoon asks.

With a smile, Seungcheol replies, “Yeah. I think it is. It’s worth being able to hold you like this.” He pauses to brush hair out of Jihoon’s eyes. His hand drops and cups Jihoon’s jaw, keeping Jihoon in place as he leans in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “And kiss you like that,” Seungcheol adds.

Jihoon looks down at the weave of Seungcheol’s sweater. The weight and warmth of the body against his is so, so new, especially in this context where things are more than moves on a stage, but it’s comforting, somehow. The solid feel of Seungcheol next to him grounds him.

He supposes he’ll never know what the future might bring; that thought alone serves as both a comfort and a source of anxiety. But with Seungcheol holding him with such gentle arms and regarding him with such soft eyes, he feels inclined to dream for once, coaxed into the clouds by Seungcheol’s convincing presence.

“Then let’s date,” Jihoon whispers, just audible.

Seungcheol grins. Warmth settles into the lines around his eyes and mouth and nose, and his eyes are stars that captivate Jihoon so wholly he wouldn’t dare to away.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything in response. He just cups the back of Jihoon’s head and pulls him in for a kiss.

 

* * *

 

The new school year starts and Soonyoung signs up the crew for another showcase in the summer. Only a few months have passed since Jihoon and Seungcheol started dating, and they’re coming back from practising their next duet when Jihoon falls into Seungcheol’s bed with a thump.

“You look like a dead animal sprawled out like that,” Seungcheol calls to him from the kitchen.

All Jihoon can manage is a grunt.

“You wanna order in or should we settle for ramen tonight?” Seungcheol asks.

Sighing, Jihoon rolls over onto his back.

“We should probably just have ramen,” Jihoon replies, staring up at the ceiling. “We went out twice this week already.”

“True,” Seungcheol replies.

Jihoon listens to the sounds of the cupboards opening and closing, the clink of pots and bowls moving. Soon enough, he’s dozing off, hands folded on top of his stomach.

“Hey,” Seungcheol whispers into his ear. Jihoon wakes up with a start, knocking their heads together.

Seungcheol’s immediate response is to yelp in pain, but it’s not long before he bursts into laughter. He collapses onto his side next to Jihoon, who turns and buries his face into Seungcheol’s shirt.

“You need to shower,” Jihoon mumbles.

“So do you.”

Jihoon sniffs at that. He knows it’s not an invitation to shower together; their height difference proved that to be an uphill battle a few weeks back. Baths aren’t too bad in comparison, but both boys would rather save the time and water.

“Food’s ready, by the way,” Seungcheol says. He pats Jihoon’s back before nudging Jihoon off his lap so he can stand.

“Did you remember the eggs this time?” Jihoon asks, following his boyfriend into the kitchen.

“Yes, Jihoonie.”

Jihoon jabs at Seungcheol’s back. He just laughs and dances away.

As they sit at Seungcheol’s tiny kitchen table, they kick at each other’s feet gently, idly. Jihoon busies himself with keeping his shirt as clean as possible as broth flies from his noodles, and Seungcheol multitasks by looking at his phone while he eats.

“Soonyoung wants a progress report by this Friday,” Seungchol tell him in between bites.

Jihoon hums before swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“Do you think you’ll stay in the crew until you graduate?” Jihoon asks.

Seungcheol doesn’t look up. “Probably,” he replies. “Don’t see why not. Not every extracurricular you do has to relate to your major, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jihoon chews on the ends of his chopsticks before continuing, “I think—I’m just trying to think ahead a little bit here.”

“Ah. A dangerous path you’re walking.”

“Shut up.”

Jihoon slurps down the rest of his dinner, and when he puts the bowl down, he’s met with Seungcheol’s curious gaze.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Seungcheol asks.

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “It didn’t sound like you wanted to hear it,” Jihoon replies.

An impish smile stretches Seungcheol’s face. “I always want to hear what’s on your mind, Jihoonie,” he coos. Jihoon kicks him under the table with a true intent to hurt.

As Seungcheol reels his legs back, Jihoon looks down at the table. He picks at a few stray crumbs from whatever breakfast Seungcheol had that morning—toast, looks like.

“I’m just wondering about… after, I guess,” Jihoon says. His voice comes out quieter than he’d like, and he kicks himself internally. “Like, after the summer showcase. After the next year. After school. All that.” He pauses. “Job stuff, you know? And…”

Jihoon lifts his eyes and looks at Seungcheol. Although Seungcheol isn’t wearing his usual smile—taking Jihoon seriously, he hopes—there’s nothing about his expression that nags Jihoon’s brain. At least, not yet.

“And—us?” Seungcheol supplies.

Jihoon nods.

Seungcheol nods back and crosses his arms over his chest. His responding hum fills up the space between them like water rising behind a dam.

“Well,” Seungcheol starts, and Jihoon leans a bit closer over the table, “I think—”

Jihoon nods again, faster this time.

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself,” Seungcheol finishes.

Jihoon deflates in his seat. Regarding Seungcheol with a frown—and _maybe_ it’s a bit close to a pout—he puts his chin in his palm.

“Am I not allowed to have serious thoughts about my future?” Jihoon asks.

Yep, he’s definitely pouting: Seungcheol leans across the table to give Jihoon’s cheek a big pinch. Jihoon doesn’t have the energy to fight him off, either.

“You are,” Seungcheol says. The smile on his face both annoys Jihoon and reassures him. “But I don’t think it needs to be anything in definite terms. Yet.”

“Yet,” Jihoon echoes.

“Yet,” Seungcheol repeats with a nod. “Come on, the school year _just_ started. No point in rushing into things just yet.”

Sighing, Jihoon folds his arms over each other. “I guess you’re right,” he mutters.

“No dirty talk at the dinner table,” Seungcheol says, grinning.

Jihoon tries to kick him again and Seungcheol just laughs, the sound vibrating through the apartment like wind chimes. It’s a beautiful laugh, if Jihoon’s honest, and it stirs the instant noodles in the pit of his stomach. Still, it’s a tiny bit infuriating—though that’s only one of the fun parts of their relationship.

“C’mon, Jihoon-ah,” Seungcheol says as he stands. He collects both ramen bowls and even drops a kiss to Jihoon’s head as he passes. “Let’s clean up.”

Jihoon doesn’t need to be told twice. As they stand elbow to elbow at the kitchen sink, Jihoon returns the kiss, and Seungcheol smiles down at him, radiant as always.


End file.
